


7/11

by flowerpotz01



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s)--18 years old, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Gay Disaster Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, M/M, Minor trust issues, Oblivious Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie just wants his sour gummy worms, Sneaking Out, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, eddie isn't good with feelings, fluff with plot, just two gay besties in love, reddie love each other they're just dumb, seriously fuck that clown i hate him, they get snacks so that's your food warning, they love snacks, um
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28768392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerpotz01/pseuds/flowerpotz01
Summary: Eddie’s well aware of what a hypocrite he is when it comes to Richie. He’s sometimes quick to push Richie off of him when he throws him around like a goddamn rag doll, like now. It’s like a shock of energy is shot through him whenever Richie so much as taps his shoulder. So imagine Eddie right now as he’s slung over his crush’s shoulder. He feels like he might actually explode if Richie doesn’t put him down. But, he also knows that he can be a bit dramatic at times so there’s tha-Wait a second — did he just say crush?Oh, well—Whoops?
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Reddie - Relationship, Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak
Comments: 9
Kudos: 83





	7/11

**Author's Note:**

> Fic inspo from the song [Something Stupid](https://open.spotify.com/track/0zTOP1pknMhjZmrM5Y3CW7) by Frank Sinatra 
> 
> Enjoy <3 :)

_Ring...ring...r- “Eds?”_

“Well you picked up quick.”

 _“Always for you, my love.”_ muffled background shifting. _“Can’t sleep?”_

 _A staticky sigh._ “I tried, but…” _His frown can be heard from a mile away._

_“Me neither, I was hoping you’d call.”_

There’s a small beat of silence, and they listen to each other breath until, not so ironically, they say at the same time-

_“7/11?”_

“7/11?”

Quiet giggles filter through the phone.

 _“I’m on my way.”_ There’s a smile in his voice.

“Okay, Rich; drive safe,” _his voice soft._

_“Of course Eds, don’t worry.”_

_He smiles, his heart pounding._ “Okay.”

_“Okay.”_

_~phone call ends~_

✭・.・✫

  
_Eddie sits with one leg hanging out his window, the other still in his room on his window sill as he waits for Richie to pick him up._

It’s nearly 2AM and neither of them could sleep. So they’re doing what they always do when they need to escape the prisons of their rooms and their minds; they see each other. 

Half the time Richie sneaks through Eddie's window- _like a ninja,_ Richie would describe himself as. Face flushed, black curls all over his head like a halo from the moonlight behind him. His hair tousled as if he’s been curling his hand through it a lot. But dark circles would accompany his bourbon eyes as he crawled into Eddie's bed, and Eddie is always quick to open his arms for him, wanting nothing more than to make him feel safe.

The other half of the time, when Eddie needs to get out, Richie picks him up in his red pick up truck and they drive to the furthest gas station they can find. One that was open, at least, and it was the 7/11 thirty minutes away. They’d usually buy a mega slurpee to share and snacks, then circle to the back where there were concrete stairs to hang out on. And if they sit too close and drink from the same straw, Richie's arm ending up around Eddie's shoulder at some point, then no one needs to know that but them. 

It was their thing- their place. And it felt nice to call it that. To get away even if it’s only thirty minutes down the road. Sometimes, even hours later, Eddie can still feel the ghost of Richie’s arm lingering around his shoulders. He wonders why but decides to not think too deep of it. He’s thinking about it now as he pulls Richie’s jean jacket tighter around his body, too big for his small frame, but it still smells just like Richie, just as he likes it.

After a few minutes, Eddie hears the tell-tail of crinkling, dead leaves crunching under old combat boots, and then their secret whistle. When he looks down from where he’s perched on his old windowsill, a smile instantly blooms onto his freckled face. His heart kind of stutters when he sees Richie smiling too, wispy and beautiful and bright eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“Come on, I’ll catch you,” Richie whispers, motioning for Eddie to jump. 

To distract himself from how warm he suddenly feels even with the fall air biting at his skin, he swings the leg that’s inside his room out to meet the other and whispers back in a teasing voice, “You sure you can do that, twiggy? You almost dropped me last time.” 

Richie playfully rolls his eyes, but his arms are still held out for him. “Oh please, it was one time I didn’t catch you. We were thirteen, get over it.” 

“One time is all it takes, asshole. I broke my arm-“

“Stop being a feral tightass and jump. And do a backflip while you’re at it.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes. “‘m not feral,” he grumbles to himself before hopping down from his window. And just like richie said he would, he caught him, just like Eddie knew he would, he just liked giving him a hard time. 

Richie doesn’t set him down on the dead leaves and patchy grass of his lawn right away. They just kind of stare each other in the eyes with this kind of— locked away adoration that tries to break its way through. It’s enough time for Richie’s faint smell of vanilla dancing with his cologne that Eddie can’t get enough of to intoxicate him. But then the moment ends and he’s on the ground before he’s ready. Richie’s arms leave his waist and Eddie's arms unhook from around his neck and he already misses his body heat. Richie clears his throat, then gives him an _I told you so_ look, making Eddie scoff and push at Richie’s chest. 

Richie throws his head back in a laugh, because he’s a little shit, and Eddie has to hiss out, “Shut the fuck up before you wake my mom up and make her pop an artery.” 

“Don’t worry, Eds. I just left her after giving her some good ‘ol Tozier mclovin’, so she should be out for a while if you know what I mean.” There’s a cocky lilt to Richie’s voice that makes Eddie give him an irritated side eye, and sees that he’s wearing a sly smirk as he combs a hand through his hair.

They get to Richie's truck and Eddie gives Richie a scathing look. “You’re insufferable. I don’t know why I’m still friends with you.” 

“Because you _looove_ me,” Richie says in a song-song voice while cranking up his truck, giving him air kisses.

Eddie buckles his seat belt and slumps down in his seat. “Whatever,” he grumbles. But it’s not like Richie’s wrong, and that’s what makes him so annoying. But he likes it, admittedly. And he kind of wants him to, quote on quote, annoy him all the time. He doesn’t say that, though. He almost feels that it’d be admitting something more than just the words that he's not ready to say yet. So his mouth stays shut, keeping it padlocked in his throat where it’ll be safe.

They drive with the windows down as they fly down the backroads past the overgrown grass fields and dim lamp posts. The cracked tar road taking them further away from what’s supposed to be considered home. There’s a low crackling of some song by _The Cure_ that he can’t really put a name to because of the static. But Eddie doesn’t mind, it’s somehow comforting in a way; grounding. Eddie wildly begins to imagine that this is what Cali will feel and be like for them, except all the time.

The crazy thing is though, Eddie's home is sitting right beside him; home is wherever Richie is. And he thinks this as he looks over to Richie, who’s drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, probably to a beat in his head. 

His midnight curls flying in the wind and the moonlight somehow making his skin paler. But that only highlights the light spatter of freckles dusting across his nose and cheeks. Richie then looks over to him, and there’s that starry look in his eyes that shows up every now and then when he looks at him. Richie smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners from his genuine smile, before turning back to the road and Eddie's breath catches. Because, well, he just thinks he’s so beautiful. 

He hides his stubbornly warm cheeks by looking out his own open window, hanging his arm out, and letting the wind run through his fingers like wispy ropes. The cool night air washes over his face and through his hair, making his eyes flutter to a close. It’s almost refreshing in a way. And he can’t help feeling freedom coursing through his body. Chills running over his body like winding roads. He leans his head back, eyes still closed in an attempt to live this moment for as long as he can. 

And then he feels Richie's eyes on him like he always does. But doesn’t open his own to meet them. He won’t lie, he likes knowing Richie’s looking at him. That he has his attention. Eddie just wants his eyes on him, him, and only him. But even he knows that sounds kind of weird, which is why he has to tease Richie on it so he can stop, despite him wanting the opposite.

So Eddie rolls his head over against the headrest and peeks one eye open to look at Richie. Richie looks away quickly as if he’s been caught, which he has. 

“If you crash us, I'll eat your arms instead of the oreos I buy at the 7/11.” 

Richie's eyebrow twitches upward as he huffs out a laugh. “Kinky.” 

Eddie giggles and tries to keep his heart from beating out of his chest. “Eyes on the road, weirdo.”

Richie breathes out another laugh, but his fingers tighten on the steering wheel. The rest of the car ride is silent except for the sound of the occasional car that passes them —which aren't many at this hour— and blowing trees. 

Before he knows it, they’re pulling into the parking lot of the 7/11. Eddie opens his eyes to the flickering light of the neon “Welcome,” sign and the bright lights of the gas station. He hadn’t even realized he closed his eyes again. 

“Come on Spaghetti-o’s, I want my gummy worms,” Richie says as he turns his truck off. He pulls his wild curls back into a messy bun —if you could even call it that since some of his curls are already falling out— with the hair scrunchie he keeps around his wrist that Eddie’s pretty sure is one of Beverly’s. Eddie’s answer is delayed as he’s suddenly distracted by Richie’s movements. Richie’s words had for some reason sounded muffled to his ears, as if cotton were stuffed in them. Eddie looks forward, his hand still on his seatbelt to unbuckle as his cheeks warm. _Get a grip, Eddie,_ he thinks to himself. 

God, Richie’s made him an ooey gooey, gross big softy and he honestly doesn’t know when he started to feel _this_ nervous around him. Like, It’s _just_ Richie. He’s _just_ the guy he’s been best friends with and has been in sync with since they were little feral ankle biters. But then Richie’s also like— _oooh, I’m Richie Tozier; I have kind brown eyes, adorable freckles, the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen, and can make you throw up hearts and rainbows just by looking at you._

Like shut the fuck up Richie, no one asked, you’re so annoying.

He hadn’t even noticed that Richie had gotten out of the truck when he’s startled by his door swinging open. It makes him accidentally click the unbuckle button and sends his seatbelt flying back out of surprise. He’s snapped back to reality and looks at Richie with frantic eyes, big as saucers. Like Richie stole his chicken nuggets without asking first, which always pisses him off. But then his face twists into a scowl and is about to give him a piece of his motherfucking mind until-

“Eds! Gummy Worms!”

Next thing Eddie knows, Richie’s hands are under his armpits and he’s being picked up, —like a goddamn _toddler—_ sliding him out of his seat and throws him over his shoulder. He tries to protest by hitting Richie’s back with his fists, squirming, kicking his legs, and just simply squeaking out, “put me the fuck _DOWN,_ Richie!” But Richie, like the asshole he is, is unphased and just _laughs_ and walks them through the gas station doors like it’s nothing.

One day Eddie is going to catch Richie off guard and throw _him_ over _his_ shoulder and then it’s gonna be _over,_ Tozier. Just watch.

Eddie stops struggling for .5 seconds to say, _“Hey Pete,”_ at the same time as Richie, the night shift cashier that is usually working when they come by this late, then goes back to threatening Richie. 

Pete The 7/11 Guy is an older man with a thick italian accent, usually reading some sports mag and smoking a cigar and smelled oddly of old pennies and cheese. But he’s pretty cool and always gives them peppermint candies when on their way out, which he for some reason says is for luck. Pete grumbles out a reply to them as he turns a page in his magazine, which isn’t different from the norm. They don’t take it personally.

Eddie’s well aware of what a hypocrite he is when it comes to Richie. He’s sometimes quick to push Richie off of him when he throws him around like a goddamn rag doll, like now. It’s like a shock of energy is shot through him whenever Richie so much as taps his shoulder. So imagine Eddie right now as he’s slung over his crush's shoulder. He feels like he might actually _explode_ if Richie doesn’t put him down. But, he also knows that he can be a bit dramatic at times so there’s tha-

Wait a second — did he just say _crush?_

Oh, well—

Whoops?

Okay fine, he has a crush on Richie, and what about it? Well— there’s _a lot_ about it considering Richie is his best friend and sometimes he doesn’t really know what to do with himself when they’re together. He kind of takes his breath away and doesn’t really know _why._ I mean, it’s Richie fucking Tozier, the lanky asshole who threw sand in Eddie’s hair as a way to say _Hello, nice to meet ya!_ in their school sandbox when they were five. Richie’s a constant motor mouth, which always gets him into shit that either him or Mike or Beverly has to try and get him out of. 

Richie can be a lot to handle, but he’s also the person who holds his hand when Eddie’s feeling particularly anxious and buzzing with anxiety— making his chest instantly lighter and his breathing calmer. He’s the kind of person who makes it so easy to make him laugh so hard that his Coca-Cola shoots out of his nose and burns his nostrils. He’s the kind of person who makes it so easy to see the vibrant technicolor in life instead of just the dreary stained black and white. He’s the kind of person who will pick him up in the middle of the night and drive thirty minutes out of Derry because Eddie couldn’t sleep without even thinking about it.

Richie is just- he’s so _good_ to him _,_ which is a total understatement by a mile. There aren’t many people in this broke down world that’s like Richie, and that’s exactly how it’s supposed to be. He’s one of a kind.

He also does shit like this, gives him attention even if it’s being thrown around. It gives him butterflies— _Richie_ gives him butterflies just by doing the simplest things. Like- how can he make _thinking_ look so adorable like the way he does? He’s just so- _ugh._

So yea, he may or may not be head over heels for his best friend. And even though he’s kind of nervous that he’s gonna slide headfirst over Richie’s shoulder and eat linoleum, he for some reason feels like it wouldn’t be that bad since he knows Richie would just pick him up again.

He wants to be held by Richie all the time. He just does that to him, he guesses

Despite this, he’s finally able to get Richie to put him down when they get to the chip aisle. He huffs dramatically, straightens out his clothing, and pushes at Richie’s shoulder with a scowl. Richie just laughs again, all beautiful and goddamn angelic like and fuck him for making Eddie blush and turning his scowl into a smile. He begins laughing too, their giggles filling up the whole chip aisle. 

And he’s reminded once again that their moments like these is why he’s so stupidly in love with Richie. Someone help him. Anybody. 

When their giggles finally subside, Richie gets that adorable, determined look in his eyes and a grin tugs at his lips. “Okay, you grab the snacks, I’ll make the slurpee.” 

Eddie crosses his arms and narrows his eyes, just to be contrary. “Why can’t I make the slurpee? I wanna make it, you always do it.”

“Because, Eds- it takes one time to ruin the art of the perfect slurpee and you’ve somehow done it. Twice.”

“What? How the hell do _I_ make it wrong? It’s a slurpee, anyone can make one,” he snarks. 

Richie starts to walk backward, still grinning. “I don’t know, you just do. One of your many talents, I’m guessing.”

“You’re a turd.” 

"A turd who knows how to make a bangin’ slurpee,” Richie says as he turns the corner.

Eddie attempts to retort back in, you know, real words. But all that comes out is a sputter of nothing, suddenly becoming tongue tied. So he settles for blowing him a childish, loud raspberry, and he hears Richie let out a cackle from two aisles over. Eddie smiles to himself, almost as if he can’t help it, and grabs a bag of salt and vinegar chips from the shelf beside him before walking to the sweets aisle. 

He does what he usually does when they come here: 

He makes his rounds to the sweets aisle to grab his double stuffed oreos (the best snack in the entire world, fuck you), Richie’s sour gummy worms (his new snack of the month), then walks to the fridge to grab his Coke and Richie’s chocolate milk since he’s a child. 

“EDS,” Richie calls from the fountain machines across the store. There usually aren't other customers in the gas station at this hour. And Pete The 7/11 Guy gave up telling them to _“stop all that yelling across my store, ah?!”_ ages ago. Now he just turns his little staticky radio that plays his old midwestern music up louder as a way to drown them out. But since Richie is Richie, he’s proven many times that he can yell louder.

“You don’t have to fucking _yell._ What is it?” he says back as he heads toward the front counter. 

Richie ignores Eddie’s scold. “Did you get my gummy worms??” 

“Yes, Richie, I got them.”Eddie can hear that he’s started walking, too. So Eddie walks faster.

And so it begins. 

Since they’re _apparently_ still children, they always have an unofficial race to the front counter. Eddie’s not sure how or when that fell into their gas station algorithm, all he knows is that he definitely gets to the counter before Richie. But Richie’s a sore loser, so he picks Eddie up from behind and moves him away from the counter, rings the little desk bell and gloats, “I win, you lose!” and sticks his tongue out at him and Eddie hip bumps him. Pete the 7/11 Guy just stares as he starts ringing them up and Eddie honestly doesn’t know how he deals with them.

“No _fair,_ Richie! I win; I won you absolute menace!” Richie ignores him, the asshole, and has the audacity to be wearing the biggest shit eating grin when he takes his wallet out and pulls out a twenty dollar bill. Eddie slaps his shoulder and groans. “I said _I_ was paying this time. You always do this-”

“Eds, I never agreed to that; I only said ‘ _you’re cute when you’re feral,’_ and you took that as me agreeing with you.” Richie hands Pete the money and Eddie crosses his arms again and rolls his eyes like the child he is.

“I hate you,” Eddie grumbles. He doesn’t mean it.

Richie grabs their slurpee. “No, you don’t.” See?

Richie easily uncrosses his arms to grab one of his hands without any resistance from Eddie. “Goodnight, Pete; thanks again for not kicking us out.” Pete the 7/11 guy just nods, like he always does as a _you’re welcome_. Eddie’s gonna miss him when he and Richie leave in three months.

Eddie grabs their bag of goodies from the counter as Richie leads them out the doors, his larger hand still engulfing Eddie’s smaller. But even as Eddie feels that familiar little shock shoot through his arm when their fingers tangle, he doesn’t miss the teasing tug of a smirk around the cigar and wink Pete gives him after looking at his and Richie’s hands together. Eddie’s eyes widen and there's a nervous tug at his heart because _what the hell is_ that _supposed to mean PETE?_

By the time he has the nerve to ask him _what the fuck,_ he’s already in the biting night air again and is already halfway to the back of the 7/11. And just like that, the last 15 seconds are long forgotten. 

Walking to their spot behind the gas station feels different tonight. Well, scratch that; _everything_ about tonight feels different. Almost charged with an electricity that Eddie can’t see, but can feel all around them. Can Richie feel it, too? Or is it all in his head? Sometimes he wishes he could read Richie’s mind, he can be so goddamn confusing sometimes when it comes to....whatever the fuck this is between them. 

Friends? 

_Best_ friends?

 _More_ than best friends?

Just two dudes that both happen to be gay and best friends since scraped knees and overalls and hold hands all the time and can be a little too touchy with each other but also _no homo bro_?

Eddie doesn’t know and he kind of just wants to stand up on a chair -because dammit he can be tall, too- and shake Richie by the shoulders to stop being an asshole and kiss him already, but-

Ugh, whatever; he just wants his oreos.

Their spot in the back is the same as how they left it a few nights ago, just with a few extra empty boxes out for the trash. For Eddie to be a germaphobe, he’s surprised that he was ever willing to sit back here. In a place that he’s pretty sure someone has pissed where they are more than a few times. 

The railing of the steps are peeling and rusted and sometimes even sticky; there are like- several different stains on the cement stairs that he’s pretty sure isn’t food; ants and beetles that crawl in and out of the shadows of the cracked, dirty ground; and there’s a homeless man that he and Richie sometimes give their leftover snacks or money to when leaving. He never really talks, but when they give him some of what’s theirs, Eddie can always see how thankful he is when looking in his stormy, hooded eyes.

He and Richie named him Joe. He just seems like he’d be one. 

Richie lets go of Eddie’s hand so that he can sit down on the second step and Eddie makes room for him to sit down. But when he looks up, he sees Richie looking at him with an eyebrow quirked up and teasing realization written on his face. Richie points a lazy finger at him. “Is that my jean jacket, Spaghetti man?”

Eddie stares blankly at him before looking down at himself to see that- oh yeah. Richie’s jean jacket pretty much swallows him whole; the sleeves are longer than Eddie's arms themselves and the collar of it is constantly trying to slip off his shoulder, making him have to shrug it up more times than he’d like. But it _smells_ like Richie, and that’s why he likes wearing it sometimes. Richie had put it around Eddie’s shoulders one night when he and the losers were at Derry’s Fall Festival a few weeks back. Richie saw he was cold, so he let him put it on before wrapping an arm around his shoulders and bringing him close to his side. And Eddie had _kinda_ accidentally on purpose never gave it back after that. But had only realized it after the fact. Whoops?

Eddie’s cheeks flush at the memory but looks back up to Richie with faux confusion. Because he’s a little shit and has already accepted that. He’ll take what he can get. “What do you mean, Rich?” 

Richie playfully rolls his eyes and plops down beside him, setting their drink down on the bottom step before snatching their goodie bag from Eddie’s hands. He rummages through the bag until he finds his sour gummy worms and makes an excited sound that makes Eddie giggle. 

“You’re gonna end up marrying a sour gummy worm instead of an actual human being, aren’t you,” Eddie says matter of factly before taking a sip of their cherry and blueberry swirl slurpee and... _did he put coca-cola in this? God that’s good._

“Why,” Richie says before throwing a gummy worm in his mouth, “you pb&jelly?” 

Eddie opens his pack of oreos and rolls his eyes. “Please; you and I both know I have a better chance with you than your bag of- of nauseatingly sweet worm candy.” 

Richie scoffs and holds his candy bag close to his face. “You hear how he talks about you, baby? Don’t listen to him, he’s just bitter.” Well, _true,_ but not over a stupid bag of gummy worms, _dumb idiot._

“Why would I be bitter when I have oreos? ‘m not jealous, you’re jealous,” Eddie mumbles.

Eddie’s head lolls down to lay on Richie’s shoulders as he takes a bite out of his oreo. They’re silent for a few minutes, the sounds of snack baggies crinkling, passing cars, and their breathing filling out their own little bubble of a world. It’s nice like this, comforting. He has Richie right beside him, so close together that they’re practically one person. He can feel the soft wisps of a few strands of Richie’s hair tickling his forehead and his eyes flutter to a close at the feeling. He can feel Richie’s rapid pulse and Eddie almost wonders what has Richie so worked up. Eddie wildly begins to think, for a second time that night, if this is what California will be like. 

He wonders if they’ll keep their little ritual alive when they get there as they get on their feet in the land of dreams where the trees are cotton candy and the water is like rainbow unicorn piss. Will Cali change them? Will it change who they are? Will it kill the 7/11 fantasy that they have made up of getting away when Cali _is_ the place they went to get away from bumfuck Derry, Maine?

Eddie takes another bite of his cookie.

Eddie tends to overthink a lot, and it’s as if Richie had been reading his mind when he says, “No matter where we are in the world, either it's here in shithole, Maine, or it at a 7/11 on goddamn Mars with aliens; promise me we won't lose this.” Richie grabs Eddie’s hand but is still looking out towards the empty parking lot full of potholes. His voice is soft, but Eddie can tell he’s saying this from somewhere deep inside him that he rarely ever lets out. Eddie likes when he lets his guard down with him. Only he gets to see this side of him.

“I promise, Richie.”

Richie holds his pinky finger out for him to hook his own around and looks down at him. “ _Pinky_ promise?”

Eddie was going to roll his eyes. Tease him on how he still needs to make pinky promises like a child. But then he sees the vulnerability in his chocolate eyes and the pink flush staining his cheeks. A soft smile makes its way onto Eddie’s face as he hooks his own smaller pinky around Richie’s bigger one, and says without a doubt in his quiet voice, “I _pinky_ promise.” And it’s all worth the smile Eddie is rewarded with and the kiss to his hand before letting their hands fall on Richie’s leg.

Eddie sighs and looks up, and past the flickering street lamps and the fall trees with dying leaves still hanging on the branches, he sees the dark sheet of the midnight sky, and the stars brightly dancing in it. 

Derry sucks ass, big time. And he can’t _wait_ to leave this piece of shit town to start a new life thousands of miles away from his overbearing mother with his best friend. But even he has to admit, Derry can be beautiful if you just take out the racist homophobes and the toxicity that lingers there in town. To be black, gay, overweight, a girl with an abusive father who just happens to be their school's janitor, being known as the brother who’s little brother went missing and found dead five years ago; that’s all it takes to be an outcast from others and what makes it so dangerous to live there. Those labels are what they are to others _;_ the losers. It’s not just Eddie who’s ready to turbo blast out of there, it’s all of them despite going separate ways. But with a bond like theirs? Eddie’s not worried that anything will change except for the fact that they won't all see each other every day. This will be good for all of them. _Three more months._

This is running through Eddie’s mind as he’s enjoying where he is right now. If he looks closely, he can see almost every star and constellation in the blanket of darkness above them. This is one of the _good_ things about Derry: it’s absolutely beautiful at night. His eyes flutter closed as he feels a light breeze tickle his face. Realistically, it’s chilly outside. At this time in the Fall night, it’s probably in the 60’s and close to the 50’s, temp wise. But he swears it doesn’t feel like it. Not with Richie’s jacket still drowning his body and Richie himself right beside him. He’s always warm with Richie around. It could be -20 degrees outside and it would still feel like it’s Springtime, just because Richie is there, lighting a fire in his heart in the best way. 

And just like that, he feels Richie’s eyes on him again and Eddie’s breath catches as goosebumps break out on his skin. He lets him stare for a few seconds before huffing and taking his head off his shoulder. He feels overwhelmed by it sometimes even though he likes it. “Stop looking at me like that,” he says with his face still tilted to the sky and his eyes still shut. 

There’s a crinkling of a snack bag before he gets an answer back. “ ‘m not looking,'' Richie retorts around a mouthful of sour gummy worms. “I’m just sitting here eating my worms thinking about the next time I get to fuck your mom.”

Eddie snaps his eyes open and turns his head to give him a deadpan, knowing look. He raises his eyebrows. 

“I’m not!” Richie defends, his eyes comically wide and shrugging his shoulders exaggeratedly. “I’m like- looking over your head at hobo Joe across the street. He’s giving me flirty eyes again.” He leans over so he can see hobo Joe better, smiles, and sends a flirty wave ”Hey Joe Jo-”

“Richie stop!” Eddie giggles out as he swats Richie’s hand down. “Leave him alone, he wants nothing to do with you.” The last part comes out softer than he intends, mostly because when he tries to take his hand back, Richie grabs it in his and intertwines their fingers again before setting them down between them. 

Eddie’s breath hitches as he looks at their hands together, a smile still playing on his face. Richie’s thumb slowly smoothes his thumb back and forth on his hand and it’s like Richie is _trying_ to make him break. He looks away with warm cheeks, clears his throat, and, out of reluctance, takes his hand away from Richie’s to drink from their slurpee cup. 

Hm.

Okay.

It’s quiet between them again for a few moments, but their bubble that surrounds them feels charged. Does Richie feel it, too? 

Richie is who starts talking again, and Eddie’s kinda thankful. “You think we’ll be able to find another 7/11 in Cali like this one? Another Pete with peppermints and that smells like cheese and pennies, Eds my love?”  
Eddie giggles and hands their slurpee to Richie after taking a sip. “Another 7/11? Probably. Maybe even a nicer one than this shithole. But another Pete? Not in our dreams; no one can replace Pete.”

Richie takes a few big sips, his smile curling around the straw. “You really think so? Even if the cashier there gives us more peppermints than Pete ever has?”

“Yep,” Eddie takes the cup back.

Before Eddie really has a chance to stop himself, the words are already flying out of his mouth. Despite this, though, he’s not afraid that he’s said them and wouldn’t dare take them back. Why would he lie? “Honestly Richie, it doesn’t matter if Pete is there or not. As long as we’re together it’ll be just the same, maybe even better. Believe it or not, anywhere with you there makes anything better.”

Richie doesn’t say anything, if anything he’s _too_ quiet, and Eddie’s still looking down at their slurpee in his hands. The cold condensation droplets of the large cup slide between his fingers, the chill of it making his hands numb but in a grounding way. If he’s honest, it’s not like he was expecting him to respond. He kind of expected it to just be that since he meant what he said and Eddie would like to believe that Richie knows that, too. But if there’s anything he wasn’t ready for, it definitely wasn’t Richie lifting Eddie’s head up and towards him, delicately guided by Richie's pointer finger under his chin. And it _definitely_ wasn’t for him to close the gap between them and to kiss Eddie.

Oh.

When he and Richie were kids, Richie asked him a question. One that had taken six and a half-year-old Eddie aback out of confusion, but more so out of curiosity. Richie had asked, as they laid flat on their backs looking up at the cloud filled and blue sky in their spot hidden away from the other kids at school if he had ever wondered what it was like to kiss a boy instead of a girl. It was out of nowhere but he answered truthfully that he had and told his mom the first time he did. That was the first time she scolded him for thinking about something _so diseased._ That it was wrong. 

Richie had rolled his head over to look at him after Eddie said that, and Eddie saw something in his eyes that day that he didn’t understand, but did at the same time. It matched the fluttering feeling of butterflies flitting around in his belly. Then Richie is leaning up and resting on his elbow on his side, eyes still trained on Eddie’s before slowly leaning down towards him. Eddie’s brain told him to move out the way and that he should be scared. That it was _wrong._ But he _wasn’t_ scared like he thought he should have been. Even then he knew that what he was feeling, though new and confusing, didn’t feel forbidden. So when Richie was finally an inch away from his face, he squeezed his eyes shut and laid very still where he was on his back in the grass with both his tiny fists tight at his sides. 

And then he felt it, the light press of Richie’s chapped lips on his that ended as soon as it started. Eddie’s little heart was thundering away in his bird chest when he opened his eyes again, dark vision spots clouding his eyes. But Richie was still looking down at him, his face equally a bright cherry red as Eddie’s felt. Richie plopped back on his back beside him again without another word, and the last thing Eddie remembers after that was Richie hooking their pinkies together where their hands laid between them in the grass and weeds. And Eddie scooted so that he was closer to him before daydreaming, looking up at the different cotton ball cloud shapes, feeling light and airy.

Eddie had forgotten all about that Spring day until now, and it feels so much more different.

It catches him off guard, but all of his senses have zoned in on Richie. Richie cradling both of his cheeks; Richie’s knees knocked against his; Richie’s curls tickling his warm cheeks; Richie’s lips and the taste of sour gummy worms a cherry slurpee making its way onto his-- it’s everything about him coming at Eddie all at once and he feels intoxicated by it all. Everything else melts away and it’s just them now, along with a low ringing in his ear and the thundering of his heart trying to jump out of his chest.

He hasn’t kissed back yet though, Eddie still in shock mode. But he feels Richie start to pull away and all of the sudden the voice in his head yells, _“kiss him back, dumbass!”_ It’s as if his brain decided to start working again and he drops their slurpee onto the cracked concrete, cherry and blueberry syrup ice spilling everywhere as he clutches the lapels of Richie’s hawaiian shirt. 

He kisses back, and- yes he knows he sounds cheesy like a bad 80s rom-com, but he swears there were fireworks. He swears the wind picked up around them and the big, neon 7/11 sign above them that’s been flickering all night stops and becomes a more vibrant neon of green and orange. All of the things he claimed to be bullshit, and probably still are since his imagination can sometimes take him to crazy town, are happening. And he can’t help but break out into a smile and giggle into Richie’s mouth, which makes Richie pull back slightly. 

Richie lightly smiles, but his eyes worry when he sees that Eddie’s eyes are glossed over with bleary tears. He pulls back completely as he begins to ask, “Eddie what’s wr-” but doesn’t get a chance when Eddie cuts him off with, “No, no, come back.” Grabbing Richie’s cheeks in his hands and starts kissing all over his face, choking out something between a sob and a laugh of disbelief. 

“Eddie-”

“You’re so cute,” Eddie whispers with a kiss on his forehead.

“Eds,” Richie says, not being able to contain his giggles either.

“You’re so adorable it hurts.” A kiss to one of his eyelids.

“No, you are with your cute freckles and- fucking _bambi_ eyes-”

“You take my breath away, Rich.” He kisses both his cheekbones.

“Stop, I’m gonna cry.”

Eddie kisses down to his chin. “You’re such a little shit, but you’re my _favorite_ little shit.”

“Okay, I’m crying now.”

Eddie finally lands back on Richie’s mouth and kisses him soft but slow. He doesn’t mean to sound breathless when he says in one quick breath, “I love you. Always have, probably always will.”

And he knows it’s probably too early, maybe even stupid to say that now. Especially since they haven’t even talked about anything. But then there’s Richie, looking in his eyes with the most adoring look and as if he hung the twinkling stars in the sky, and so goddamn beautiful it hurts. And he says without missing a single beat, _“I love you, too.”_

And all that worry about saying those weighted words too soon melt away, just like the ice in their slurpee running a syrupy stream down the sidewalk to hobo Joe.

✭・.・✫

The rest of the night is like a beautiful blur. 

Eddie’s not really sure when they got back in Richie’s truck and drove back to Eddie’s house. All he knows is that they’re there, Eddie’s arms wrapped lazily around Richie’s neck and Richie’s snaked around his waist, leaning against the side of his house for what was supposed to be a goodbye kiss. But it’s been about five minutes of them whispering _“okay, bye...wait one more”s_ through bashful grins and kisses _._ He doesn’t ever want this to end, but he knows it has to, at least until tomorrow. Well, until later on since it’s 6AM. The sun will be up soon, and it’s already a risk to be kissing where someone could possibly see them, even though they’re on the backside of Eddie’s house. But they’re both so drunk off of each other it’s hard to care.

Feelings that have been shoved down and hidden coming up to the surface and there’s no way to stop them. They really don’t want it to, to be completely honest. If you would’ve told Eddie twelve hours ago that his night was going to end like this, he probably would have laughed in your face and called chicken shit. Yet, here he is....

“Ri-richie I’m serious,” Eddie giggles out as Richie starts kissing all over his face. “Rich, I have to go! My mom will blow a gasket if she walks in my room and finds me not the-” Richie’s lips land on his again, shutting him up. And what’s Eddie supposed to do? Not kiss back? 

Yeah right.

Richie pulls away after a few seconds to look down at Eddie, one of his arms coming off from around his waist to rest against the old wood of the house. “Eds, please; I’m pretty sure Mrs. K is on some heavy sleep medication right now. She wouldn’t wake up even if a bomb went off at her bedside, stop worrying.”

Eddie laughs, his eyes squeezing shut briefly before looking back up to Richie and just- God, he’s such a dream. Eddie doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of looking at him; being with him, holding him. And he finally gets to do it now without it feeling like a burdened secret that was locked away tight in his heart. He....he got the guy. Holy _shit._

Richie lightly tilts his head to the side, a couple of unruly curls falling over the teasing glint in his eyes. His arm protectively curls more securely around Eddie’s waist, making him lean more into his touch. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, Eds?” he asks softly.

Eddie combs Richie’s errant curls back and out of his face, keeping his hand stationed at the nape of his neck. “Nothing, just-” Eddie pokes his Richie’s belly, “you’re like, _real,_ right? This is happening?” Despite everything and all of the beautiful evidence staring down and surrounding him all at once, Eddie’s mind still finds a way to cast doubt in him. That tiny slither of black, thick-like liquorice of doubt still trying to rope its way around his heart to constrict it. He needs it to stop.

“I sure hope so,” Richie says with a crooked smile, “or I’m going to be so mad when I wake up.” He squeezes Eddie’s side reassuringly, then takes the hand that poked his belly over to his beating heart. And Eddie lets out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding when he feels it thundering away under his palm. “I’m yours as long as you’ll have me, Eddie. This is real.” 

Richie kisses him again, this one slower almost as if to prove his point. Richie knows Eddie needs reassurance sometimes. He knows his home life, and despite him constantly running his mouth on how much Mrs. K likes to _hit it from back with him_ , Richie is at the top of the list of hating Sonia Kaspbrak’s bloated, bulging guts the most. 

Eddie has suffered through years of toxic love that his mother has given him. She’s tried her damn best to ruin him when it comes to trusting others and keeping him from golden summer days playing with his best friends. Forcing him into isolation even after he found out about her pumping his body of bullshit meds. _They’re gazebos; they’re_ bullshit. 

Sonia has done everything she can to manipulate and _make him clean_ when all Eddie ever wanted was to hold Richie’s hand without her voice lingering in his head that _it’s_ dirty, _Eddie-Bear; that diseased Tozier boy is_ dirty. 

But Richie Tozier is anything but dirty and diseased. He’s absolutely beautiful. 

Richie makes him feel clean; he makes him feel so alive and like he can do anything under the sun. And even before tonight, Richie has made Eddie feel _loved_ and _worthy._ He’s shown Eddie what _real_ love is supposed to feel like. That it isn’t supposed to hurt. 

_“Love isn’t supposed to drain and hurt you like this, Eds,”_ Richie said to him late one night, sitting in the bed of his trunk overlooking the quarry. Eddie’s silent tears bled onto the fabric of Richie’s clothed shoulder as he sat in Richie’s lap and Richie’s arms holding him protectively. Eddie and his mom had gotten into another argument about the same thing just on a different day. She said she loved Eddie more than anyone ever will, but if she did then why was it so damn painful? Eddie didn’t respond to what Richie said, he only said he didn’t want to go back home yet. And Richie said he didn’t have to and held him closer, leaning his head on top of Eddies.

His words have always stuck to Eddie since that night, and that was when he began to learn the difference between his mom’s love and Richie’s love. Richie’s love did not make him feel manipulated and heavy; it didn’t make him want to cry. His love made him feel safe and gave him intoxicating goosebumps and warmth inside. And _that’s_ the amazing, eye opening difference. 

One day, Eddie is going to tell his mother that and that there’s nothing she can do about it. He’s going to tell her that he’s in love with Richie and Richie is in love with him and that it doesn’t hurt. And when he does, he and Richie will already be in California, living their lives and finding themselves together. And Eddie genuinely can’t wait. But for now and for the next three months, he’s going to spend it with Richie and his best friends. Vibrating and buzzing and stupidly head over heels in love and he thinks that’s a pretty good plan.

Eddie pulls away, his eyes still connected to Richie’s in awe before looking away thoughtfully, biting his lip. “Let’s go to the quarry,” he says through a grin. And he watches as Richie’s face lights up like breath taking Christmas lights. Richie takes his hand.

“Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/flowerpotz01) <3


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